The Funny Thing about Norman Foreman by Julietta Henderson (e book reader online txt) 📕

there fighting over the two sides of my scar and wondered if perhaps I shouldn’t give it a whirl myself.

Adam insisted on escorting us back to the hotel, despite my best efforts to put him off.

‘Honestly, Adam, we’re fine . . . aren’t we, Norman? It’s not that far and, actually, we’re . . . um, in a bit of a rush because we . . . umm . . . we’ve got to . . . you know, our bags and . . .’

But even as I was speaking he and Norman were already on the move through the coffee shop, clearing a path as they went. I brought up the rear as Norman stepped forward to hold open the door for Adam and his mobility scooter to trundle through, apologizing along the way to a woman who nearly lost her Waitrose shopping under the wheels. It was a strange turn-up for the books, and no mistake. It was almost like . . . was it possible Norman actually liked this guy? As I mulled over that highly unexpected possibility I allowed myself to get caught up in the slipstream of Adam’s considerable wake, stepping over the bodies along the way.

When we arrived back at the Premier Inn I could see through the glass frontage that Leonard was already waiting in the foyer, sunken into one of the chairs with our luggage at his feet. There went that excuse. He was turning his iPhone around and around in his hands with a distracted look on his face like he couldn’t decide whether or not to make a call.

I stepped into the automatic revolving doors just ahead of Norman, with Adam bringing up the rear. Out of nowhere, I got a heart-dropping vision of a rainy afternoon in Truro, pushing through the same kind of doors at Barclays bank when I had taken Jax and Norman to open their Five Year Plan account. But before I could get to the funny bit where Jax had announced to the teller that yes, Five-Year was his first name and Plan was his last, there was a massive commotion behind me as Adam’s scooter wedged itself firmly in the doors, trapping not just him but also three tiny Japanese girls trying to exit the other side.

Leonard’s head shot up like he’d never seen a fat man in a mobility scooter wedged in a door before, and Norman immediately tried to double-back to help, but he was already too far out the other side. He began tapping and pointing and making hand gestures through the curved glass while Adam wrenched at the controls on the scooter, causing it to alternately reverse and hop forward.

I saw Leonard take in the scene, from Norman tapping on the glass to Adam swearing his head off to anyone who was listening and me standing back, trying to melt into the floor. I watched as his gaze slowly moved from one to the other and then even more slowly over to me. I think I clocked the exact moment he realized who Adam was, and his eyebrows levitated so high they threatened to disappear into his neatly combed hair. But he didn’t say a word. There was really no need.

We made eye contact, and all I could offer was a shrug. I mean, I agreed. I was just as bemused by the idea of Adam being related to Norman as he was. But what could I do? The damage was done, if it was done. Trying to leave the past behind by ignoring it didn’t really appear to be working for me any more so my options were wearing pretty thin.

By the time the receptionist, the duty manager and a couple of helpful passers-by had managed to extricate the girls from the revolving-door cavity (freeing them to come inside, but conveniently leaving Adam parked at an awkward angle on the outside), it was clear the Premier Inn Bournemouth wasn’t going to win any points on TripAdvisor for being mobility-scooter friendly.

Leonard had sat back watching the action unfold with some delight, and he looked almost disappointed when Adam’s moment of freedom arrived, although one of the girls had somehow managed to spike him in the shin with her six-inch heel, so that cheered him up a bit. I was distracted by the three girls giggling and taking photos of Adam through the glass, which I vaguely considered might be in preparation for a potential law suit, so I jumped a bit when there was a very close hiss at my shoulder.

‘Err, Sadie, I think it might be time to go now.’ Leonard was darting glances around the foyer and making motioning jerks of his head.

‘What? Why, what’s . . . ?’

Before I could get any further Leonard put his hand very firmly around my elbow and started steering me towards our cases.

‘Yes, definitely, Sadie. We need to leave right now, my dear.’

I didn’t understand what the sudden urgency to leave was at first, but then I saw what he had seen. A housekeeping trolley was parked just outside the lifts, piled high with a veritable mountain of yellow-and-green-stained towels. Even from across the foyer I caught a waft of something unpleasantly pungent and I saw the duty manager stop mid-conversation with a departing guest and frown, raising his nose to sniff the air.

The possible financial ramifications didn’t bother me half as much as the potential confrontation when the receptionist and the housemaid started comparing notes, which was looking imminent, so I decided Leonard was right, as usual. It was definitely time to leave.

Leonard and I made eye contact and he raised one bushy eyebrow. I tipped my head and saw the ghost of a smile pass over his face. I felt my own mouth twitch ever so slightly. Ahh, there she is. Without another word passing between us we grabbed our cases and walked over to Norman, who was still making signals through the glass to Adam. Leonard took one of his arms, I got hold of a handful of shirt, and we turned him in